


With the Dreams of the World in the Palm of Your Hand

by QueenOfAllCorgis



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Car Accident, Coma, Hospitals, M/M, Prescription Drug Abuse, Waking From A Coma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfAllCorgis/pseuds/QueenOfAllCorgis
Summary: Roger had hoped that waking from coma would be like in the movies. He would wake up feeling well rested and go right back to how his life was.It wasn't like that.It wasn't like that at all.





	1. Listen

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from A Winter's Tale by Queen.
> 
> Prompted by loujentch:  
> Roger gets into a bad car accident and stays in a coma in critical condition for 4 months. When he wakes up he doesn't remember anything. He has to learn everything again like how to walk, talk, read, write, play drums etc. The boys are giving their best to help him. Oh and it's a maylor fic

This had to be hell. 

 

Roger was in actual hell.

 

Maybe it was his vanity that had done this. He had always loved being the center of attention, preening when people noticed him. He liked to think it was his looks or maybe his personality. He would dress in outrageous clothing just to draw the eye to him. 

 

Now, he was the center of attention and hated every second of it. 

 

He could feel the stratchy sheets covering him. He could feel the uncomfortably too wet towels giving him a bath. He knew his hair was a tangled mess no matter how carefully (but not carefully) it was brushed. He could hear Brian’s trembling, whispered begging late into the night.

 

_ Please sweetheart, please open your eyes.  _

 

_ Give give me a sign that you’re still there. _

 

_ Are you even here? Christ, am I talking to no one?  _

 

_ I just want to see your eyes.  _

 

_ Please Roger, don’t do this. _

 

And he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream that he could hear, that he was right there! He wanted to squeeze Brian’s hand back. He wanted to do whatever he could to stop heartbreaking pleas that were mumbled into his ear.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

Roger had drifted back to awareness slowly. It was like he was trying to claw his way through a thick gel while a weight was strapped to his ankle. He had finally, finally, broken through the hazy nothingness around him but was now trapped in his limbo. 

 

He couldn’t move a muscle, not even to blink or breathe on his own, but he could hear and feel everything around him. 

 

“Hey Roger,” Brian’s tired voice informed him that he had returned from the meeting he had vanished off to. It had to have been over an hour of just laying in silence. “I’m back.”

 

_ No shit. _

 

“The meeting went well, Freddie and John send their love.”

 

_ But didn’t come. Figures. _

 

“The label wants to do some memorial concert for you, like you’re dead or something.”

 

_ Oooooh, make sure all the greats sing I’m in Love with My Car. _

 

“No, we can’t do an entire show of your dumb car song,” Roger would have smiled if he could have. “I think it’s some ploy for them to strum up media attention. After the accident you were all anyone could talk about and now you’re old news.”

 

_ So, I’m being forgotten as I lay here and rot? _

 

A shaky breath made his heart drop. “It’s been four months Rog. It’s been four months and I don’t know what to do anymore. Do I stop coming? Do I try to move on?”

 

_ No! Don’t leave me here alone! Please Brian!  _

 

“Everyone keeps telling me that it’s too much. The doctors are saying that there’s no progress and...they’re losing hope. It would be cruel of us to keep you alive on machines...but I don’t think I can make that decision.”

 

Roger felt icy fear grasp at his chest. Would they really pull the plug? Would they really let him die? Is this how it ends for him? 

 

No.

 

He would not die wasting away in a hospital bed forgotten by everyone. He was fucking Roger Taylor and he would fight for his life. He would fight for his right to live. 

 

“I am just scared. I don’t...Roger?”

 

The light burned like nothing ever had but Roger used all of his strength to crack open his eyelids. Everything was too, too bright and his eyes couldn’t focus but he could tell by Brian’s gasp that he had done it. 

 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” there was hope in Brian’s voice, something Roger hadn’t heard in a long, long time. He shouted out for a doctor, slipping his hand into Roger’s and squeezing tight.

 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open long. They slid shut again and he felt completely exhausted in a way he never had before. Sleep washed over him completely and Roger felt himself falling into that dark. 

 

Still, he had done it.

 

He was waking up. 


	2. Blink

Oh my God, he was drooling. 

 

Days had passed since he first opened his eyes. In that time his eyes had slowly gotten used to the light and he could start making out things around him. Blurs sharpened into shapes which finally sharpened into pictures. That in of itself was thrilling to Roger and he drank in the sights like a drowning man.

 

That being said, his body was not reacting. 

 

A thin tube still forced oxygen into his weak lungs and, embarrassingly, drool pooled around his lips. A nurse or even Brian would dutifully wipe it away but he internally cringed every time. He wasn’t some dribbling child but he couldn’t even keep himself clean or take care of himself. 

 

“Why hello there sleepy head!” The too sweet voice he had come to dread rang in his ears. Bitch Nurse (he might have heard her name once but didn’t care to remember it) smiled down at him, ugly beaded necklace swinging in his vision. “How are you feeling this beautiful morning?”

 

_ Annoyed. _

 

“I’m doing just super!” She spoke slowly and loudly, her voice grating. “Do you want your bathtime now? A nice bathtime?”

 

_ Normally, I would be all about a sponge bath from a nurse but not from you. _

 

“I can make sure you are scrubbed squeaky clean. Behind the ears and everything,” she giggled and tapped at his nose. He wished he had to ability to bite her stupid finger. 

 

Roger closed his eyes as he heard her getting the water ready. Maybe he could fall asleep. Then he wouldn’t have to hear her telling him about all the  _ pretty _ colors around him or listen to her explaining what shapes things were.

 

“Oh, hello,” he had never been more grateful to hear Brian’s soft voice. 

 

“Mr. May!” Bitch Nurse’s voice went even higher if possible. “I was just about to give Roggie here a bath.”

 

He fluttered his eyes open, a task that was getting easier with every passing day. Brian stood in the doorway with a very unpleasant look on his face, like he was sucking on a lemon. God, Roger wished he could have laughed.

 

“I’m sure  _ Roger _ wouldn’t mind going without a bath for a bit because I have some business to discuss with him,” Brian held up a folder and waved it a bit.

 

“Oh,” Bitch Nurse frowned, cocking her head to the side. “I tend not to discuss anything too difficult with him. With his disposition it might upset him.”

 

This time Brian didn’t even try to hide his distaste. “Roger is part of the band. He needs to hear all of the band decisions. Now, if you could excuse us.”

 

Roger could have cheered while Bitch Nurse gathered up her supplies, grumbled, and made her way into the hallway.

 

“God I don’t like her,” Brian muttered under his breath as he took a seat next to Roger’s bed. “I’ll make sure to request you get a bath when that super cute brunette is working. What’s her name? Gloria?”

 

_ See, this is why I love you. You know what I need. _

 

“I don’t really have any business,” Brian shrugged a bit, looking sheepish. “I just wanted her the hell out of here so I can have you all to myself.”

 

Roger’s heart picked up at that. Their relationship had been going beautifully before the accident. Freddie used to tease them that the honeymoon period would wear off but so far it hadn’t. They still delighted in every shared smile, every sweet kiss, and every gentle embrace.

 

All Roger wanted was to feel Brian’s lips on his instead of this awful tube.

 

But...Brian hadn’t even hinted at their relationship. He shied away from touching Roger and the blond knew why. He wasn’t the same energetic, fun loving man he had fallen for. He was a weak shriveled body that couldn’t even go to the bathroom by himself. There was very little hope he would ever go back to how he was. 

 

“Oh! Fred’s writing a new song!” Brian perked up at that. “Want to hear about it?”

 

Another thing Roger loved about Brian. He knew that Roger had very little ability to respond so he asked as many yes no questions as possible. One blink for yes and two for no.

 

Roger blinked once and Brian beamed.

 

“I knew you’d say yes,” God, it felt good to have some kind of conversation. “He apparently wrote it in the bathtub. It’s quite good. He even wants to play the acoustic guitar for it, can you imagine?”

 

_ Well, better him try the guitar then try and take my drums from me. _

 

“And we know it’s because he would be right shit at the drums,” Brian dropped his voice conspiratorially. “But of course we would never say that to his face. Imagine the shriek he would give at that!”

 

_ Why don’t they visit me? Why don’t they come see me? I miss them. _

 

Something must have shown in his eyes, a sadness maybe that only Brian could read because he awkwardly hovered his hand over Roger’s. 

 

“They say hello by the way. They would be here but...I’ll tell them to come,” he gave him an awkward smile. “Deaky is just busy with the kids you know? That’s what he gets for being dad of the year I suppose.”

 

Roger would have given anything to have those little tykes running around, screaming their heads off while John and Ronnie watched on in exasperation. Hell, he would take John’s annoyed glances and Freddie’s self absorbed rants. He would take any part of them.

 

He missed his friends.

 

“I talked to the doctors for a bit! They said your lungs are getting stronger! I told them it’s because of all that exercise you gave them screaming at people for all those years,” Brian laughed, shaking his head. “You might be able to get the breathing tube out soon! Then they can check your swallow reflex and see if you can get the feeding tube out.”

 

_ Oh yes, then my medication tube and the tube that’s in my dick. I’d love all those tubes to be gone thank you very much.  _

 

“I know it doesn’t sound like much Rog but it’s a miracle,” Brian scooted closer so he could see him better. “This is amazing. I’m  _ talking  _ to you. It’s more than I could have dreamed of.”

 

_ It’s horrible. I want you to hold me. I want to tell you how scared I am. All I can do is fucking blink.  _

 

“And if this is it, if this is all I can get, I’ll be happy,” he finally, finally touched him. Long gentle fingers curled around his own and Roger was suddenly hyper aware of how skeletal his own fingers seemed. 

 

_ You’ll be happy talking to a blinking, drooling, rotting corpse? That hardly seems fair to either of us. What kind of future is that? _

 

He tried so hard, so so hard to curl his fingers around Brian’s. He focused on the muscles contracting and the nerves firing. He focused on the tendons stretching and the skin pulling across his joints. 

 

Just one movement.

 

Just one.

 

Just one fucking movement.

 

“Hey,” Brian pulled his hand away from Roger’s to wipe the tears that had started slipping down his cheeks. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s fine Roger.”

 

_ No, it’s not. _

 

“You’re so brave. I couldn’t do what you’re doing,” Brian’s voice was soft and soothing but Roger felt like his chest had been twisted inside out. 

 

_ What I’m doing? I’m just lying here trapped in my own mind. I’m not doing a damn thing but watching the world move around me. It isn’t bravery if I’m scared out of my goddamn mind. _

 

Then he heard a strange, high keening noise. What was wrong with Brian? Why was he making that noise? Was he hurt? He sounded like a wounded animal.

 

“Calm down Roger,” Brian sounded a bit worried as the beeping from the heart monitor sped up. “You’re fine, shhhhh.”

 

Oh.

 

He was making that noise.

 

Wonderful.


	3. Breathe

Brian was there when they removed his breathing tube and Roger wished he wasn’t. 

 

The trials to see if he could breathe on his own were long and painful but finally it was determined he could breathe on his own. Despite aching lungs he was beyond thrilled that he was getting just a step closer to normality. 

 

First, he had to deal with them suctioning his mouth out. It was disgusting and uncomfortable and he could see Brian wincing in the corner of his vision. 

 

Then, they deflated the balloon holding the tube in place and he found himself swallowing convulsively around the tube. It was able to move and a terrible feeling like he was choking overwhelmed him.

 

“Alright Mr. Taylor,” the doctor took hold of the tube. “I’m going to need you to cough okay?”

 

He tried his best. He tried to cough and make it easy. Instead, it seemed to drag in his throat and he choked and sputtered. Thick phlegm splattered his lips as he heaved and gagged. Blessedly the tube was finally pulled free and he was able to suck in deep, painful gasps of air. 

 

“Well done,” the doctor beamed but he just struggled to force his weakened lungs to expand and contract. 

 

Brian inched forward, eyes wide and wet, and only relaxed when they put the oxygen mask over his face. Again, Roger could tell that he was holding himself back. He still didn’t touch him but smiled reassuringly. 

 

The bed hummed as it move to a more upright position and finally his breathing got more under control. Roger felt himself sag back, frustrated that such a little thing could completely exhaust him. He used to be able to drum for hours and barely break a sweat but now he was completely worn out by just  _ breathing _ .

 

“Hey Rog,” Brian whispered. 

 

“Hi Brian, I missed you so damn much. I’m scared and hurt and I don’t want to be here anymore.”

 

That’s what he wanted to say.

 

That’s not what he said.

 

What came out instead was a weak, slurred moan. 

 

Roger blinked a few times, surprised by the broken sound that came out of his mouth. He swallowed, dry throat clicking, and tried again. No matter how hard he tried to get the words out they came out in just strangled sounds. 

 

A rapid beeping sound pierced into his ears and his lungs burned horribly. His heart felt like it would actually beat out of his chest with how hard it was pounding. 

 

_ What is wrong with me?  _

 

“Calm down Mr. Taylor,” the doctor’s too calm voice only made him a bit more frantic as he tried to speak around his uncooperative tongue and vocal cords.  

 

_ For fuck’s sake! Fix it! Fix it! Fix me! _

 

“What’s wrong?” Brian’s voice shook but he was beyond grateful that his panic was finally being voiced. 

 

“It’s perfectly normal,” the doctor repositioned the oxygen mask so medicinal smelling air flowed into his heaving lungs. “After a few months of not being used the muscles in his mouth and throat have weakened. We can start physical therapy as soon as he is able and hopefully get some of his ability to speak back.”

 

_ Some? _

 

Roger felt dizzy at that. He had known that it would take some time for the movement to return to his arms and legs. He had (somewhat) come to peace with that. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t be able to talk. 

 

If he couldn’t talk what was he?

 

He was a motionless, moaning  _ thing _ .

 

He was a burden on everyone.

 

The doctor took away the tube and cleared off his bedside. He even was able to remove the mask after a bit but Roger refused to make another sound, too scared to hear his voice again. He couldn’t stand to be reminded once again how far he had fallen.

 

“It’s not that bad Roger,” Brian sighed, sinking into his chair. The smile he had on his face looked stressed, like it would fracture at any moment. “We are going to start therapy and you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

 

_ Bullshit.  _

 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

_ Me too. I’m sorry you feel like you have to sit here and suffer with me. It’s not fair. _

 

“But I...Roger? Oh come on,” he let out an annoyed sigh when Roger closed his eyes tightly. Maybe it was a bit childish but he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t scream out his frustrations or storm out of the room. 

 

The only sound in the room was the beeping of the heart monitor. 

 

“Fine.”

 

It was a testament to how stubborn they both were because neither one of them moved or spoke. Brian waited for Roger to open his eyes and Roger waited for Brian to give up on him opening his eyes. 

 

In the end Brian must have thought he had fallen asleep because he sighed and went for his ever growing collection of books on the bedside table.

 

Roger just let himself drift after that. He was exhausted but too keyed up to fall asleep. Instead he just lay there and breathed, focusing on how the air moved in and out of his lungs.

 

A soft knock almost made him open his eyes but he kept them shut. 

 

“Hey Fred,” his breath caught for a moment and he strained his ears. “Good of you to come.”

 

“Yeah...” he could tell by the distance that Freddie was lingering in the doorway. “I heard he was getting his breathing tube out today so I figured I would stop by.”

 

“Yeah, it happened just a while ago but he’s doing well. He tried talking a bit today,” Freddie’s shoes clicked on the floor as Brian talked. “It wasn’t much. The doctors think he’s going to need a lot of rehab to get back to normal.”

 

“Do you think he ever will?” Freddie sounded so sad.

 

“Ever will what?”

 

“Get back to normal,” Roger felt his chest grow tight. “I mean...he was gone for a long, long time. The doctor said he might have severe brain damage. How do you even know he’s still in there?”

 

“Because I’m here every fucking day unlike you,” Brian hissed, obviously keeping his voice down so he wouldn’t wake Roger. “You just gave up on him.”

 

_ Please leave. I can’t open my fucking eyes now so please leave. Let me be alone. _

 

But of fucking course he couldn’t have what he wanted. 

 

“Look at him! He’s fucking wasting away!” Freddie snapped. “I love Roger. He’s my damn brother and I...it hurts to see him like this. I have nightmares about looking in his eyes and not seeing him there.”

 

_ I am here Fred. I’m here and sometimes I wish I wasn’t. _

 

“He needs us,” Brian’s voice cracked. “He needs us Fred. Here...here, I’ll wake him up and you can see for yourself.”

 

He sounded desperate and Roger felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking lightly despite the protests from Freddie. Roger played asleep for a moment longer before fluttering open his eyes, squinting into the light. 

 

“Hey,” Brian’s face was almost too close to his, a wide smile plastered on it. “Hey Roger. Freddie is here, he can to see you.”

 

When he finally glanced to Freddie his first thought was that he had never seen him look that scared. Freddie’s hands were clasped together and held tight to his chest, eyes wide and panicked looking. 

 

“H-hi Rog,” Freddie mumbled. “I heard you were doing better.”

 

_ Just moments ago you were talking about how terrible I looked. _

 

Their frontman was obviously trying his best to avoid looking at him, gaze focused instead on the wall behind him. He shifted from foot to foot and started wringing his hands. 

 

“I was just telling him about how you got the tube out and are going to start therapy, isn’t that right?”

 

Roger knew what Brian was doing. He wanted to prove to Freddie that everything was okay but it made him feel kind of like a dog following a command. He didn’t like it at all but he also didn’t like the way Freddie refused to look at him.

 

So he blinked one and made a humming noise. 

 

That made Freddie’s head snap up and his eyes narrowed slightly. It was like he was searching for something, looking slightly nervous, but then he seemed to have found whatever he was looking for. A small smile spread across his face and he stepped forward, reaching down to place his hand on Roger’s covered foot. 

 

“It’s so good to see you Roger. I’m sorry I haven’t come by.” 


	4. Talk

It had been a month since he woke up and according to everyone he was making  _ extraordinary  _ progress.

 

It didn’t feel so extraordinary to Roger. 

 

Hours in physical therapy had actually led to some results. Instead of just making guttural noises he was actually able to form some words. The words were slurred and garbled but he was able to communicate more naturally. 

 

He was also able to move more. Roger had cried the first time he moved his stiff fingers. His movements weren’t controlled at all. It felt more like he was a puppet with his strings cut. Movements were jerky and awkward but he could  _ move. _

 

It was also the first time he was able to ask for a mirror to see for himself.

 

It took quite a bit of time and energy to get his request across. There was a lot of stammering and slurring before the nurse nodded and fetched him a handheld mirror. 

 

Roger should have expected the changes. He knew that laying in a bed for five months wouldn’t do him any favors but he hadn’t expected his level of change. His arms and legs had shrunk down to nearly nothing. The inactivity had robbed him of the muscle mass he had been so proud of. His collarbones jutted out from the neck of the hospital gown, looking so sharp it was like they could cut glass. Roger couldn’t help but notice how shrunken in his cheeks were or how hollow his eyes looked, coupled with the almost too long greasy hair he looked like a cheap Halloween prop. 

 

Maybe that’s why Brian didn’t want to touch or kiss him.

 

His boyfriend remained by his side, loyal as ever, but never once touched him the way he used to. Roger wasn’t expecting the raw passion they had before. Obviously Brian wasn’t about to slam him up against a wall and make him scream, but he wanted  _ something _ . He wanted to feel soft lips on his or a hand carding through his hair. He wanted to know that Brian still wanted him.

 

But how could he?

 

How could Brian want him after all of this? Roger knew he was different. He knew that he looked frail and weak. He knew that he could barely talk. He knew he couldn’t walk or even move properly. He knew that sometimes he forgot things or it took a bit too long to make connections. 

 

He wasn’t the fun, pretty young man Brian had fallen in love with.

 

“I wrote a song,” John had made a rare appearance, sitting in the chair at the side of his bed. It had taken some convincing but the guitarist had finally gone back to the flat to get some rest. “It’s a bit funky which Brian doesn’t like but...hell, it’s my song.”

 

Roger laughed, a strange wheezy sound, but it still made John smile. 

 

“Of course we’ll wait until you’re able to write our drum parts,” and the smile fell completely off Roger’s face. “But this album is going to be interesting. I’m excited about it.”

 

“I...c-c-c-caaan’t pl-pl-” Roger tried to stutter out and John gave him a sad smile. 

 

“Look how far you’ve come Rog. We didn’t think you’d ever even wake up. I know how damn stubborn you are, you’ll play with us again,” John leaned forward and patted his shoulder firmly. 

 

Roger just rolled his eyes in response. 

 

“I w-w-w-w-w-”

 

“You will,” John squeezed his shoulder. “Give it time.”

 

“I-it’s bu-bu-bu-bull-shhh-” he groaned when the words just wouldn’t come out. The muscles in his mouth had gotten stronger but it was still weak. He even still had the feeding tube in as his throat wasn’t strong enough to swallow food. 

 

“It is bullshit,” he was always so grateful for John’s honesty and bluntness. There was no sugarcoating with him. “I mean, it’s complete bullshit this happened to you.”

 

“I d-dooooon’t remmmber,” he managed to slur out and John nodded. 

 

The younger man sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was raining, remember? You were taking a car to the hotel and there was...I guess there car in front of you slid? Your driver swerved and the car spun out. It went into the opposite lane of traffic and you flipped.”

 

He didn’t remember.

 

That whole night, hell the whole week, was a black hole. 

 

Sometimes he didn’t remember things that happened the day before or even hours before.

 

It was frightening. 

 

“But it’s okay. You’re okay now,” John must have noticed the strain on his face. “Let me tell you what the kids did the other day, it was completely insane.”

 

So, he just listened to John ramble on and tell him about his children. It felt like any other day and if Roger closed his eyes he could almost imagine sitting in one of their gardens drinking a beer. 

 

It felt almost normal. 

 

“Thhh-thh-annk y-y-you,” he stuttered and John froze in the middle of his story. 

 

“For what?” The younger man cocked his head to the side. That was another thing Roger appreciated about his friend. He never tried to give him the easy out in conversations. 

 

“Mmm-mm-mak-k-king mmm-mm-e...normmmm-al,” he winced at the way the words seemed to fight him. “Nnn-n-no oonnnne else,”

 

John hummed and nodded. “It’s been hard Roger. I’ll admit I was fucking scared as hell to see you. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought...I thought that maybe you’d be gone. Not physically but I thought you’d be a vegetable or something and that would have  _ killed _ me to see.”

 

Roger turned his gaze away, heart breaking when he saw tears in John’s eyes. 

 

“But...fuck, you are here. I can’t imagine the pain you must feel. I can’t imagine how trapped you must feel stuck in this bed,” his breath was a bit shaky. “I regret staying away but I saw the pain Brian was in. He loves you so much and he had to watch you practically waste away.”

 

Roger let out a huff. He understood what John was saying but it didn’t erase the hurt. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking, that he is cooling on you,” Roger rolled his eyes again. “But he’s not. He love you so, so much...he’s just scared.”

 

Those words echoed in Roger’s head for the rest of the visit. 

 

He was thinking about them when Brian returned with freshly washed hair and a pastry. 

 

He was thinking about them when John leaned down for the first hug he had gotten in months.

 

He was thinking about them as Brian rambled on about the new cat Freddie had gotten. 

 

They couldn’t live in fear.

 

“‘Ey,” he said softly, making Brian stop talking. “‘me ‘er-eeeere.”

 

Brian’s brow creased in confusion as he tried to puzzle out what Roger wanted. After a moment he seemed to figure it out and scooted closer, smiling gently. 

 

With a deep breath, Roger reached up and tried his best to curl his fingers into Brian’s shirt. His fine motor skills were still severely lacking so all that really happened was that his fingers brushed lightly against the fabric. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Brian leaned in, frowning now. 

 

“K-k-k-isssss mmmm-mmm-e,” Roger mumbled and Brian looked down where his hand rested on his shirt. 

 

“Oh Roger...I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt you,” his soft admission completely broke Roger’s heart and he let his hand fall to the bed. “Come on now Rog.”

 

He shook his head. 

 

Brian let out a sigh, leaning back. “Listen, I know it’s hard but-”

 

And Roger pulled his leg back and slammed it into the end railing of the bed. Despite how weak the kick was it still made the railing rattle so he did it again, and again, and again.

 

“Roger, stop this!” Brian snapped, grabbing his foot. 

 

“No!” It was the first word that came out clear and strong. 

 

Brian flinched back and stared at him. Tears gathered in his eyes and he held his hands to his mouth, clearly at a loss of what to say or do. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“B-b-b-br-o...rrrrrruinnned,” Roger choked out, his throat aching. 

 

“No! You’re not ruined!” Brian shook his head wildly, grabbing Roger’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry. It’s me. I’m scared and stupid and...I love you so much. I’m scared that...shit, I don’t want it to be real.”

 

Roger felt tears slide down the sides of his face.

 

What if this was their forever? What if this was the most Roger was capable of? 

 

Would Brian stay?

 

“But it is,” Brian’s voice broke and he wiped at a few stray tears. “It’s real and I don’t know what to do. I want everything to go back to normal. I’m sorry I hurt you but I’m...I’m struggling.”

 

_ So...what do we do? _

 

He didn’t want to ask the question out loud. He didn’t want to be reminded it was happening.

 

Brian stared down at their hands. “I’m here for you Roger. I’m by your side. I won’t leave.”

 

_ And you’ll grow to resent me. You’ll hate me by the end. _

 

He lifted his hand again, pressing the palm against Brian’s slightly stubbly cheek. Roger tried his best to convey everything he was feeling and thinking. He tried to show how much he loved him, how sorry he was that everything had happened, and how much he needed him. 

 

Brian smiled faintly and then reached up to cover Roger’s hand with his own. 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “We always do.”

 

_ But it’s never been like this. _

 

Roger tried to ignore the pain aching in his chest. He wanted to just focus on the warm eyes staring down into his own and the hand covering his. Until things were normal again, if they ever got normal again, he would just have this.

 

It was better than nothing.


	5. Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank y'all so much for all of your kind encouraging words! Your comments mean more than you could ever know! It honestly makes me day when I get that notification haha!
> 
> It might be a while until the next chapter as I am getting married in two days (ahhh!!!) and will be quite busy!! 
> 
> Thank you loves!!

Six months after the accident Roger took his first step.

 

He used to look forward to wild parties where he would bump elbows with famous people and drink champagne that cost more than the rent at his first flat. Now, he looked forward to just standing on his own. 

 

It seemed so simple. Hell, babies could do it. 

 

Roger had always considered himself fairly fit. He had to be to play the drums like he did. Although never really into sports he would play football or tennis with friends, just taking his body for granted in a way he never would again. 

 

But now, standing seemed as daunting as running a marathon.

 

The physical therapist had been exercising his limbs even when he was in the coma but there was still a significant amount of muscle loss. The movements he could make were uncoordinated and awkward but it felt like freedom. 

 

“Ready?” Matthew, the physical therapist, smiled brightly at him and he nodded quickly. They had been practicing sitting up for a few days now and the contraption next to the bed was giving him a bit of anxiety. 

 

Instead of answering, Roger glanced to where Brian was nervously standing at the foot of the bed. After their stilted conversation it was obvious that Brian was putting a bit more effort in even though it was clear he still felt awkward. 

 

Moving to a sitting position was still uncomfortable. After months of lying down in bed he would be overwhelmed by dizziness for a few moments, vision greying out and body swaying. Matthew patiently held his shoulder until the dizzy spell had passed and he caught his breath.

 

“Alright Roger, I’m going to help you get your hands on the bar here,” Matthew spoke clearly, motioning towards the bar in front of him. “Then I’m going to get your feet set up and you’re going to pull up into standing. Sounds good?”

 

He nodded again, not trusting his voice right now. Matthew took his hands, covered in soft gloves. He gently uncurled his stubborn fingers and wrapped them around the bar, velcroing them into place. Then he took his feet and placed them on the base of the contraption, making sure they were secure. 

 

“Ready?” Matthew grinned, positioning himself behind the bar. 

 

Roger tried, he really did. His arm muscles shook with strain as he tried to pull himself up but nothing happened. A sharp stab of humiliation shot through him as he finally let himself fall back into a sitting position. He couldn’t even pull up his own body weight despite how much weight he had lost. 

 

“You know what, Brian why don’t you stand where I am?” Matthew glanced over and Brian practically jumped at the suggestion. “I’ll stand to the side and help you get up.”

 

Brian looked even more nervous when he moved in front of Roger but gave him a shaky smile. He carefully reached up and covered Roger’s gloved hands with his own, squeezing lightly. Matthew counted down again and this time with some help he was able to stand. 

 

His leg muscles instantly started screaming. Roger let out a sharp gasp, nearly falling back down, but Matthew’s hands kept him in position. 

 

“You’re standing,” Brian breathed, sounding awed, and Roger glanced up to meet his eye. It felt surreal standing in front of him and for a moment Roger could pretend things were back to how they used to be. 

“Y-y-y-eah,” Roger let out in a breathless laugh. 

 

“You’re doing great Roger, just a few more seconds,” Matthew said and Roger grimaced. The pain was quickly rising and his body shook. 

 

Brian grinned at him, eyes extra bright with unshed tears. Then, uncaring about the other man in the room, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. At that, Roger’s legs gave out and he fell back to the bed with Matthew slowing his fall.

 

“Knocked you off your feet eh?” Brian joked but his voice still wavered with emotion.

 

“Shhhhhut u-u-up,” Roger panted. Inside it felt like his insides were doing backflips and cartwheels. He couldn’t stop the stupid smile that spread across his face. 

 

“Think you can try again?” Matthew didn’t mention the kiss or even seemed phased by it. 

 

He nodded, feeling more encouraged than ever. 

 

They managed to stand three more times before Roger’s legs just couldn’t take it anymore. His muscles jumped under the skin and his legs burned but he couldn’t stop smiling. 

 

This was one step closer to normal.

 

Matthew rambled on and on about next steps in the recovery process as he got the standing frame packed up and then waved goodbye, leaving them alone in the room together. Closing his eyes, Roger pressed his curled fingers into his thighs and tried to massage out the ache.

 

“You okay?” Brian asked and he hummed an affirmative. “I’m so proud of you. You did amazing.”

 

“A-a-a-almmmmost nnnnorma-a-al,” Roger grinned lazily, getting a laugh in response. “Th-th-then y-y-y-you’ll lllllove m-m-me.”

 

Brian’s smile faded at that, and he stepped closer. “What do you mean Rog? I love you.”

 

“Mmmhmmm,” Roger saw how his eyes went a bit panicked at that. “N-n-nooot s-s-s-since the ac-c-c-cid-d-dent.”

 

“What in the world are you talking about?” Brian pulled his chair to the side of the bed, reaching over to take his hand. “I love you, I always have and always will.”

 

To his horror Roger felt tears burn in his eyes. Next to him Brian made a soft sound and reached up to brush them away. How could he put these thoughts into words that he couldn’t even say? It made him feel trapped, imprisoned in his own body. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking. You-”

 

“N-n-no yo-u-u d-d-d-donnn’t,” he hated how his words slurred and stuttered. He hated how it made him sound so weak. 

 

Brian looked down at their intertwined fingers. “I don’t. You’re right...but we talked about this. I’m sorry I have been so distant. I’m just scared.”

 

“M-m-meee t-tooo,” Roger whispered, trying his best to slow his words down and focus like the physical therapist had taught him to. “A-a-and you’r-re sc-c-carrred o-of mmmme.”

 

“Oh,” Brian let out a long breath. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right thing to do or the right things to say. I want everything to go back to normal and I know it won’t. I’m scared that...shit, I’m scared I won’t be enough or that you’ll never...I don’t want this for you and I feel guilty.”

 

Roger’s breath caught at that. “W-w-why?”

 

“I...I’m the reason you left the party early,” Brian swallowed heavily. “I was a bit too drunk and...I got angry at you. You were talking with this girl and I guess I got jealous. You told me that you were doing it to be nice and keep up appearances. I...said some things to you that I regret more than you know and you left. You called a driver and left.”

 

“Oh,” Roger tried to comprehend what he was being told. Tears dripped from Brian’s chin onto the sheets, leaving small dots.

 

“And I was doing shots when you were dying. I didn’t know about the accident until someone came to find us. I was still drunk waiting in the hospital,” Brian’s shoulders shook. “And I thought you had died. I thought that would be the last time we saw each other and that you had died with those words being the last ones I said to you.”

 

No matter how hard he tried to remember all he got was darkness. 

 

“W-w-what did y-y-you ssssay?” Roger asked and Brian shook his head. He winced and closed his eyes tightly when Roger squeezed his hand. 

 

“I called you a slut,” the words came out so soft that Roger almost didn’t hear them. “I said that you were so needy you would be with anyone if they so much as looked at you. Roger, of course I don’t think that. I was drunk and jealous and angry. I wanted to hurt you because I was hurt and that is fucked up. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“‘Ssssok-kay,” Roger slurred, trying not to let more tears fall. 

 

“It’s not! Every time I look at you I see how heartbroken you were and I think about how I am the reason all of this happened,” Brian took his hand away so he could press both hands into his eyes. 

 

It wasn’t the first time they had said things to each other in anger. They were both rather hot headed and used their words as weapons often. Normally they would just take some time to cool off, talk it out, and forgive each other. 

 

But, there had never been a life altering accident following an argument before. 

 

Roger wanted to be angry. He wanted to take great offense to what Brian had said and scream and fight about it but he couldn’t. He couldn’t when Brian sat in front of him looking so broken and devastated. 

 

He reached up, cupping Brian’s cheek the best he could with fingers that hardly responded. Brian shivered and leaned into the touch, hazel eyes blinking open.

 

“I l-llove y-y-you,” Roger whispered and Brian seemed to almost dissolve at that. 

 

“I love you too,” he moved to kiss Roger’s fingers. 

 

Lots of things were broken that night. Lots of hurts and damages were done. 

 

In the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter. 

 

What they had was stronger than injuries, broken bones, hurtful words, and arguments. It reminded them how stupid they had been. Flirting with girls to hide their relationship and then being jealous about it seemed pointless now. 

 

“I’m scared of letting you down,” Brian whispered and Roger shook his head, smiling sadly. 

 

“N-nnever,” he whispered.

 


	6. Home

He was  _ tired. _

 

It was exhausting going through physical therapy. It was exhausting speaking. It was exhausting having to listen to the doctors or his friends talk on and on. It was exhausting just waking up in the morning. 

 

Sometimes he would just crank up the pain medication so he could just fall into a sleep that wasn’t interrupted by screaming tires and crunching metal. 

 

Honestly, he had come to look forward to the blissful void he fell into. 

 

The numb feeling swirling through his veins was the only thing pushing down the dark pain pulling at his ribs. It helped him not think about how just months ago he was playing in front of thousands of people and now he couldn’t even hold a pen or walk on his own. 

 

Roger knew that it wasn’t healthy. He knew that he was riding the wave longer than he should but he couldn’t. 

 

Whenever he tried to stretch out the minutes between doses he regretted it. His broken collarbone started to ache, sending a throbbing pain down his arm. Then his back would start to ache and his legs began to tingle like tiny needles were being stabbed into them. Lastly, his head would start hurting. It started as a dull throb and then turned into a ripping feeling like someone was tearing his skull apart. 

 

By this point he would always request another dose. 

 

It helped through. He was able to stand longer and even take a few steps. He could ignore his pain and just concentrate on his progress. He could see the way Brian’s eyes lit up with hope when he shuffled his foot further across the floor or managed to feed himself. He would do anything to keep him looking like that forever. 

 

Going home was within his grasp. 

 

All he had to do was become just a bit more self reliant and he could go home. Brian would be there to help him but he wouldn’t have to camp out in a sad little hospital room. They could sleep in the same bed, they could laze on the couch together. Things would go back to normal. 

 

Roger had played in front of thousands of people, but he had never been so nervous as when the doctor was looking over his progress. Thankfully Brian was out in a meeting so he didn’t have to listen to the countless questions he would ask. 

 

“You have done a wonderful job with your therapy Mr. Taylor,” the doctor smiled warmly. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t continue it at home.”

 

He felt dizzy for a moment. “R-r-really?”

 

“You are able to stand and walk for short periods of time. You have gotten some of the function in your hands which is great. We can get you put on a schedule with a physical therapist at home so you can continue your progress in a more comfortable environment,” he smiled and Roger couldn’t help but grin back.

 

He still felt giddy when the nurse wheeled him down the hall. Brian walked next to him, clutching Roger’s bag and babbling a mile a minute. He rambled on and on about the additions he made to the house and how both Freddie and John were excited to visit. 

 

A huge smile remained on his face as they drove home and helped Roger into the wheelchair, something Brian had perfected in the hospital. 

 

“C-c-c-aan we f-f-fix the ch-ch-changesss?” He slurred out, wincing as Brian shoved the chair over the hump at the door. 

 

“Huh? Oh! We won’t have to!” Brian beamed. “I replaced all the doorknobs with levers so you can more easily open them. I measured the doorways which we lucked out on because they’re wide enough. Shower bars were installed and they even put in a new toilet that should be easier to transfer to.”

 

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-channge it b-b-back?” Roger asked, heart sinking. 

 

“Why would we need to?” His boyfriend frowned.

 

_ Because I hate that you’re planning on me being like this for the rest of my life. I hate that you’re accepting it. _

 

Instead he just shook his head. 

 

“I put yogurts and applesauces on the bottom part of the fridge so you can grab it easily. The doctor said you can start trying more solid foods soon though!” Brian busied himself in putting the bag away and lining up the medications.”

 

“T-t-t-telly?” He nodded to the couch and sagged a bit in relief as Brian rolled his wheelchair towards the couch. He didn’t even argue when Brian transferred him over instead of letting him do it on his own. 

 

Brian turned on the television, putting it on some random nature show, and then wandered to go start making something for dinner. 

 

The birds dancing around on the screen weren’t enough to distract Roger. He had thought he would feel less trapped in his own home but that wasn’t the case. Instead he had to see the books Brian had bought about helping someone with a traumatic injury or the modifications Brian had made to the home.

 

The hospital had always been temporary. It was far scarier to see all the changes being done to his actual life. 

 

Roger grimaced and stretched out his atrophied legs, the muscles quivering and aching. A low but persistent pain blossomed in the small of his back before traveling up to his head.

 

He couldn’t do this.

 

He couldn’t spend the rest of the night curled up in agony.

 

“B-b-bri?” He called out, glancing over his shoulder to see Brian practically sprint towards him. “I nnnne-e-ed my-y-y-y mmmmeds.”

 

“Absolutely!” Brian hurried off and returned with his pain medication, shaking out a pill into his hand and popping it into Roger’s mouth. He helped him sip at his water and then smiled. “Better?”

 

“Th-th-thankss,” Roger murmured, shifting down on the couch and laying on his side. He smiled when Brian placed a blanket over him and helped him put a pillow under his head. 

 

“Call if you need me,” Brian leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his temple. 

 

Roger hummed and focused on the television. He watched the show lazily and after some time his vision started to get a bit fuzzy. The pain faded away until he felt like he could finally breathe again. 

 

He could drift off to that place where his life wasn’t changing too fast for him to follow. 


	7. Fall

Brian was  _ tired _ . 

 

He was tired of smiling, he was tired of reading the same books over and over, and he was tired of being so damn useless. 

 

What was worse was that he felt like a stranger to his own boyfriend.

 

They had been together for years and best friends for longer. He didn’t recognize this weak, angry, bitter man now and it was terrifying. Brian tried to be understanding, he tried to be supportive, but sometimes he just wanted to get away from this whole situation. 

 

He just wanted a break. 

 

Roger had been working so incredibly hard in his therapy, practicing even when the physical therapist left and it seemed to be helping. He had gained a bit of weight and the muscles started bulking up a bit in his arms and legs. Slowly but surely he started looking the way he used to. 

 

But all the hard work was taking its toll.

 

The younger man slept every moment he wasn’t working at his exercises, leaving Brian alone for most of the time. When he was awake he didn’t seem terribly up to talking. The exercises were clearly exhausting him, pushing him far past the limit.

 

“How about a break?” Brian asked, trying for a pleasant tone. “You just spent an hour working with Michelle, maybe we can watch something together or listen to some music.”

 

“I w-w-w-w-want t-t-ttt-o ge-e-e-t bett-t-t-t-ttter,” Roger’s voice was still so slurred and stilted that sometimes it was difficult to understand. His eyes held such a grim kind of determination. 

 

“You will, it takes time. You need to rest too.”

 

And Roger ignored him. 

 

Brian wasn’t stupid. He saw the way Roger would reach for the opened bottle of pills at his side and gulp them down like they were nothing. He saw the glazed look in his eyes and it made him uncomfortable.

 

But what did he know? He wasn’t a doctor and Roger had to be in pain. Roger would never do something so stupid as abusing his medication. 

 

Thankfully John and Freddie were there to help. They would pop by with groceries and food or with something to help entertain them with. Brian knew Roger felt embarrassed about his condition but they always smiled and joked, acting just like they had before.

 

Freddie had come by earlier with all the ingredients to make Roger’s favorite curry and he and Brian had busied themselves in the kitchen. It was nice just being with Freddie, laughing and joking as they chopped vegetables. It was almost easy to forget that their lives had basically changed a year ago.

 

Then, they heard a loud crash from the living room. 

 

“Roger?” Brian called out, grabbing a dish towel to wipe his hands on. “You alright there?” 

 

When there was no answer he turned the corner and froze completely, mind going blank. Roger was on the ground, clearly having fallen from his standing apparatus he had been standing on earlier. His limbs jerked, thudding against the ground horribly, and his neck was strained and stretched back. 

 

Brian didn’t remember screaming for Freddie to call an ambulance or running to fall to his knees beside the seizing man. All he could see was the whites of his eyes as they rolled back in his head.

 

The seizure seemed to last forever before Roger’s body finally calmed, going limp against the floor. His lips were tinged blue and a wet patch had appeared under him, something Brian knew would be humiliating if Roger was at all conscious. 

 

The world passed by in a painful blur as  Freddie took control of the situation. He waved in the paramedics and explained the situation, grabbed the mountain of paperwork that was Roger’s records and managed to get Brian into a coat and grab his shoes. 

 

“Come now lovey, Roger needs you to focus,” his voice was calm and reassuring, the only thing anchoring Brian down. 

 

Brian slumped in the waiting room chair, not touching the coffee Freddie had so kindly bought for him. What if this was it? What if after all they had been through and fought for this was it? How was that fair?

 

His heart jumped in his throat when the doctor peeked his head in. A small smile spread across his face when he caught sight of Brian’s hopeful face and he walked over. 

 

“Hello there,” the doctor’s voice was warm and friendly. “First off, I want to say that Mr. Taylor is just fine.”

 

All the air rushed out of Brian’s lungs and left him dizzy. 

 

“He had a grand mal seizure. This is actually very common for someone with his kind of brain injury to experience them, especially when he is overworking himself,” the doctor gave him a pointed look. “He might experience more, there’s really no telling. We can get him on a medication to start taking care of the seizures as well and that should help.”

 

Brian nodded, his body feeling wooden. “But he’s okay? The medicine will stop it?”

 

The doctor sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “The medicine isn’t a guarantee. The brain is a complex, mostly unknown part of the body. An injury on it is like a scar, it blocks the pathways. Of course, Roger’s brain has worked tirelessly to make new connections which have been shown in his progress. Still, a scar never goes away. He’ll have to deal with the effects of this injury for the rest of his life.”

 

“What can we do to help?” Freddie, ever looking forward, took control of the conversation when he saw how lost Brian seemed. 

 

The doctor gave them that warm smile again. “Seizure triggers are different for each person. Not taking the medicine is one. So are not getting enough sleep, drinking alcohol, bright or flickering lights, or even loud music.”

 

Brian’s breath caught in his throat. They couldn’t possibly do any kind of show without lights and music and running on almost no sleep was basically part of their lifestyle. This was it. This had to be the last straw. Roger couldn’t possibly continue in the band and everything he had worked so hard for, that goal he had of playing again, had just vanished.

 

Where would Roger be without that goal he was striving for?

 

Would he just give up?

 

“One more thing,” the doctor cleared his throat. “I noticed that Mr. Taylor had a rather high level of opioid pain medication in his blood. Is he still in pain?”

 

“He says he’s hurting...he says he needs the meds to help,” even saying the words out loud sounded stupid. God, had Brian been so blind in his desperate attempt to keep everything the way it was?

 

“We’ll look into getting him on a lower dose,” the doctor didn’t look judgemental in the least. “You are doing everything you can in the role as caretaker Mr. May. He is very lucky to have you.”

 

The doctor left them with some discharge information and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch set something off in Brian’s chest and suddenly he was gasping in huge, shaking sobs. 

 

“Come now Brian,” Freddie pulled him in for a fierce hug. “You heard the man, you are doing everything you can.”

 

“I just want everything to be normal,” he choked out, twisting his fingers in Freddie’s shirt. “I want him to stop hurting. I want him to get better. I just want it all to fucking  _ stop. _ ”

 

Silence followed as Freddie gently rocked him back and forth. “Me too.”

 

“How can I go in there and tell him he might have to give up Queen? It will  _ kill _ him Fred, he’ll give up,” Brian shuddered at the thought. “And the pills? I thought I was helping every time I gave them to him but they were making him worse!”

 

“Listen here,” Freddie leaned back and took Brian’s chin in his hand, forcing their eyes to meet. “Roger will play with us again. You know what a stubborn jackass he is, he’ll find a way. We’ll make sure he gets there safely and it may take some time but we’ll get him there.”

 

Brian nodded tearfully, trying his hardest to summon up even the slightest hint of hope. Nothing. He honestly couldn’t see the outcome that Freddie spoke of so passionately. 

 

Without Queen, Roger would wither. 

 

Without Roger, Brian would wither. 

 

“Hey, out of your head huh?” Freddie tapped his temple. “You are his caretaker but no one takes care of you. I promise Brian, I’ll step up more and I’ll get John in as well. Hell, Miami would be happy to help. We have a family and family helps when times are hard.”

 

For months Brian had felt alone. He had been trapped in his world of taking care of Roger and didn’t even dream of looking beyond. It was true though. There were people who loved them and who would do anything to help.

 

Maybe it wasn’t so helpless.


	8. Dance

There was a strange mix of acceptance and understanding in the flat after Roger came home from the hospital.

 

Roger was learning to accept his limits, understanding that he was healing, and things weren’t just going to be perfect the next day. It hurt and it was frustrating, but he knew that in order to be where he wanted to be he had to take it easy. Slow and steady wins the race or whatever that stupid children’s book said.

 

He also noticed a change in Brian.

 

The too wide, completely fake smiles had all but vanished. Roger hadn’t even noticed how false they were until he finally got a beautiful, bright smile and his chest grew incredibly tight. The babying had also gone away, something Roger was immensely grateful for. It seemed like he was being treated like a person for the first time since he had woken up.

 

But…he still balked when Brian brought him a pair or drumsticks.

 

“’mm n-n-n-nottt r-r-r-“

 

“Not ready?” Brian asked, cocking his head to the side. “When has that ever stopped you?”

 

He just laughed at the glare Roger shot him and helped him sit up more fully on the couch. Then, Brian knelt on the floor in front of him and carefully took one hand. He helped Roger uncurl his fingers the best he could and wrapped one around his drumstick.

 

It felt strange, both wrong and also like he was coming home. The smooth wood brushed against his hands and he let out a shaky breath, just trying to concentrate on not letting his stupid weak fingers drop it.

 

And of course he did.

 

Roger stuttered out a curse as the stick clattered to the floor. Without a word Brian took it again and placed it in his hand before holding his hands out, palm side up.

 

“Come on now,” he raised his eyebrows, a challenge. “The beat to Killer Queen.”

 

With a roll of his eyes Roger glared down at the hands in front of him. The first hit was embarrassingly weak and he would have thrown the sticks if not for Brian covering his hands with his own. Warm hazel eyes bore into his until Roger was forced to look back.

 

“You can do this,” he whispered.

 

He wanted to protest, to refuse to do anything more, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Brian down and he realized that Brian knew that about him. He was using that to his advantage the bastard.

 

The next few hits were nearly as bad before he finally got a rhythm going. Then, it was like breathing. He heard the soft _thwack_ where the stick hit Brian’s palm and it sent a wave of relaxation through him.

 

“See?”

 

“F-f-fffuck o-o-o-off,” Roger replied but there was not malice in it.

 

They continued like that for long enough that Roger’s wrists ached and his hands burned. He could see a red tint to Brian’s palms as well and felt a bit of satisfaction in that.

 

“I’ve been doing some research on therapies and whatnot. I kind of made up my own…I figured you’d like this better than those weird exercises they make you do,” a slight blush burned Brian’s cheeks and Roger couldn’t help but smile at it.

 

“Yo-yo-yo-you’re mmmmmy ph-ph-ph-“ he groaned when he couldn’t get the word out but like always it seemed like Brian was tuned into him perfectly.

 

“Your physical therapist? I suppose so, expect a bill soon,” he teased.

 

Then he held up a hand to signal Roger to wait and walked over to his old beat up record player. There was a moment of silence, a scratching sound, and then the soft intro to Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy.

 

“May I have this dance?” Brian gallantly held out a hand, raising his eyebrows when Roger just stared at him blankly. “You’re supposed to say yes and take my hand.”

 

“I c-c-c-can’t,” Roger laughed, feeling a bit hurt at Brian’s idea of a stupid joke.

 

But clearly, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

 

With a strength that surprised Roger, Brian pulled him to his feet. He wrapped an arm around his slim waist, holding him up so his legs didn’t give out on him. It was awkward and Roger instantly wanted to be put down but after a bit they got situated.

 

When Brian first tried swaying them to the music Roger nearly toppled over as his feet struggled to keep up. He must have sensed his annoyance because Brian paused.

 

“Stand on my feet,” he encouraged him and with great effort Roger managed to stand on top of Brian’s feet, carefully held in place by strong arms.

 

This time when he swayed in place they swayed together.

 

Bliss. That was what Roger felt. He sighed and leaned forward to press his forehead into Brian’s shoulder, soothed by the steady heartbeat he could feel against his own chest.

 

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Brian whispered and he shook his head lightly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I thought…I thought I was going to lose you and then I got scared when you woke up and saw how badly you were struggling. I felt helpless.”

 

Tears burned in Roger’s eyes but he didn’t say anything, just swayed with Brian.

 

“And clearly what I thought was helping wasn’t helping. I’m going to be better, okay? I’m going to be here for you…physically and mentally. It was wrong of me to put limits on you when you weren’t doing it to yourself. You’re going to beat this and I can’t wait until I see you up on that stage again,” his voice was calm and gentle.

 

“B-b-b-buut-“ Roger slurred and got a kiss on the top of his head.

 

“No buts. You were born to preform Roger and you’ll get there,” he squeezed Roger’s waist a bit tighter. “I promise.”

 

Roger swallowed around the lump that had appeared in his throat. His legs were burning and shaking under the strain of standing for so long but he couldn’t complain. There was nowhere in this world he would rather be than swaying in Brian’s arms.

 

So, he just closed his eyes and lost himself in that warm embrace.


	9. Dream

The pill dissolved into a chalky paste in his mouth, making his nose scrunch up a bit at the taste as he crunched it between his teeth.

 

Roger leaned back against the back of the couch, trying to ignore the burning in his legs as he waited for the little pills to do their magic. Physical therapy had been grueling, but he had managed to walk from one of the room to another with the help of a walker.

 

Still, the physical therapy left him in agony. Muscles burned and shook with strain log after they had stopped working. That was when he popped a few of the little white pills into his mouth and chewed. It took a few minutes and then the aches started fading.

 

That was when he took his next pill.

 

Because once the pains started fading away nothing could distract him from the memories.

 

When he first started waking up, he had been annoyed at the blank space in his memory. He had spent hours just trying to grasp something, _anything_ from the void that was the accident. It was starting to come back, which should have reassured him that his brain was healing, but instead it terrified him.

 

_You done flirting with that girl?_

_Of course, you would never miss the opportunity to be a slut, would you?_

_No, no, it’s fine. She clearly wants to suck your cock and you clearly want to let her do it._

_No, I’m not going home with you. You want to flirt with a girl to make people think you’re straight and that’s fine. I don’t want to ruin that carefully created persona of yours._

The words, snarled in Brian’s tight angry voice, bored into his brain until they felt like they were bouncing around his skull. They stole his breath, made his chest feel tight, and made his eyes burn with tears.

 

Then the pill would kick in and he would slip into sleep.

 

Roger managed to stay in that blissful, quiet place for a while before a hand roughly shook him awake. He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the fog in his vision, and looked at a furious Brian.

 

“How many of these did you take?” He shook the almost empty bottle of pain pills, making Roger wince at the noise. “Because I just picked you up a full bottle on Monday and there aren’t many left.”

 

“Sssso ref-f-fill it,” Roger grumbled, trying to turn on his side away from Brian but was forced back on his back.

 

“I’m not going to be your goddamn drug dealer Roger,” the bottle came flying at him and hit him squarely in the chest. “This is it, no more after this.”

 

Cold, icy fear settled in his stomach.

 

“No,” Roger forced himself up on his elbows, purposefully making his words clear and slow so his meaning wasn’t lost. “I a-am in pa-a-ain.”

 

“Your wounds have healed and all that’s left is muscle aches,” Brian crossed his arms over his chest. “You can deal with that using hot water bottles and aspirin.”

 

“Y-you don’t know-“ Roger started but Brian waved him off.

 

“I don’t know how you are feeling? No, I don’t. I also don’t know how it feels to be fucking addicted to pain pills but I’m smart enough to figure it out,” he rolled his eyes and anger flashed through him, hot and sharp.

 

“F-fuck you!” Roger snapped. “Fuck you! I’m n-n-ot an addict!”

 

“Because normal people take like…seven heavy duty pain pills a day! Fuck, are you trying to kill yourself?” Brian shouted and everything in Roger’s head went quiet. The anger and rage vanished from Brian’s face when he didn’t response and was replaced by horror. “Roger, you’re not are you?”

 

“No, c-c-course not,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

 

Brian shifted on his feet before sitting on the couch next to him. “Because I would…Christ, I don’t know what I would do if I came home and found you dead because you had taken too many pills.”

 

“I would-d-dn’t,” Roger sighed, rolling the pill bottle in his hands clumsily.

 

“If you are really in that much pain maybe we should go back to the doctor,” Brian sighed.

 

Guilt settled heavy and sour in his stomach. “N-nno. I just….I c-can sleep w-w-ith them.”

 

“What do you mean?” In that moment Roger was beyond grateful that his boyfriend had stopped trying to figure out what he was thinking, just letting him take his time and get the words out.

 

What could he say? Should he lie and spare Brian’s feelings? No…Brian deserved more than that.

 

“I rem-em-ember what you s-s-said,” he just kept his eyes on the bottle, not wanting to look Brian in the eye. “That n-night. I remember and…I don’t want t-t-to.”

 

Brian was silent.

 

“I’m s-s-orry,” he didn’t want Brian to feel guilty about what happened. They fought all the time and it wasn’t even the first argument they had about hiding their relationship. It just happened to be followed by something completely horrific. It was a freak accident, not Brian’s fault.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Brian mumbled.

 

They sat there again, and Roger blinked furiously against the tears in his eyes. What he hated the most was that he craved the dreamless sleep that the pills offered.

 

“I l-love you,” Roger mumbled, repeating it again without a stutter. “B-but we can’t.”

 

“I know. I know Roger. I know that we can’t share our relationship and I know that I can’t…kiss you in public or whatever but I…” Brian scowled. “It’s not bloody fair. Loving you shouldn’t threaten our careers or public image…and I should be secure and mature enough to handle you talking to someone else without getting jealous.”

 

“I would n-never ch-cheat on you,” Roger knew his reputation and he knew what he had done in the past. “Never.”

 

“I know. I just am amazed that you chose me…out of everyone in the world,” Brian scoffed, and Roger couldn’t help the small smile. “It’s petty and stupid of me.”

 

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, and Brian gave him a glare.

 

The pill bottle in his hand felt suddenly so heavy. With a short sigh, he handed the bottle back to Brian. No more, he wouldn’t do it anymore. He wasn’t going to slide down the hill that he had fought so har to climb up.

 

At least, that’s what he had thought in the beginning of the day.

 

By the time they were getting into bed he had started shivering. Despite the shivers running through his body he was also sweating, face flushed and hair damp. Brian kept shooting him worried looks but he ignored it, clenching his jaw against the tremors.

 

“Sure you don’t want a-“

 

“No,” Roger shook his head but he really, really wanted just a little nudge into sleep. Still, he couldn’t get the heartbreak in Brian’s eyes out of his mind.

 

They lay down together and Roger smiled as Brian easily pulled him into his arms. It took a while for Brian to touch him, too scared to cause any harm, and now Roger adored every touch. It was a rare moment of normalcy and he held onto it as tightly as he could.

 

Sleep was difficult to get to without the artificial pull of the drug, but he got there. It wasn’t the easy slip under but eventually exhaustion took over and he drifted off.

 

_Brian’s hand was firm and strong where he gripped Roger’s arm, pulling him to a dark hallway away from the loud crowd. The taller man hadn’t said anything, jaw clenched and eyes flashing._

_“What?” He snapped as soon as Brian shoved him into the bathroom, locking the door behind him._

_“Are you done? You done flirting with that girl?” Brian’s voice was dark, and Roger rolled his eyes._

_“I’m not flirting with anyone. It’s pretending, keeping up appearances,” Roger tried to sidestep him but got pushed backed again._

_“Of course, you would never miss an opportunity to be a slut, would you?” Brian snarled and Roger felt his blood run hot. “Because that’s Roger Taylor, the band whore.”_

_“Shut your fucking mouth.”_

_“No, no…it’s fine if you want to act like that,” Brian stumbled a bit, the drinks he had earlier clearly making an impact. “She clearly wants to suck your cock and you clearly want her to do it.”_

_This old argument again. Roger wanted to scream and fight, wanted to punch Brian in his stupid face. He knew his flirty personality was something that hurt Brian and the drinks had loosened his tongue._

_“You’re drunk and being stupid,” he snapped. “Let’s just go home if you’re going to act like this.”_

_Brian shook his head, hair flying everywhere. “No, I’m not going home with you. You want to flirt with a girl to make people think you’re straight and that’s fine. I don’t want to ruin that carefully created persona of yours.”_

_“Jesus Christ Brian just-“_

_“Wouldn’t want anyone getting any ideas, would I?” An ugly sneer was on his face. “Wouldn’t that just be the worst?”_

_“I’m done,” Roger was able to push past him this time and stormed outside where the cars were waiting. He honestly wasn’t sure what was worse, the words Brian had said or the fact that he hadn’t followed him._

_As soon as he slumped in the back of the car, he let himself cry a bit. The dark hid the tears and he tried his best to hide his sniffles from the driver._

_God, he wanted to tell the world Brian and he were in a relationship. He wanted to tell everyone about the amazing, wonderful man he had fallen in love with. Then he would think about how they might be treated by the media. Queen would get tons of bad press and it would hurt their reputation. Instead of their music being the focus their personal lives would and that wouldn’t be fair._

_It wasn’t fair._

_It wasn’t right._

_It-_

_The sound of tires screaming was the only warning Roger got before the world exploded around him. His brain couldn’t keep up with the spinning, crushing, and jerking that the car went through before it shuddered to a stop._

_He was being crushed. The metal frame of the car was bearing down on him, forcing the air from his lungs. He could feel the broken bones stabbing into his organs, blood pooling around him._

_Mostly, his head hurt._

_It was a terrible deep pain that scattered his thoughts and caused his vision to darken. The realization that he was dying crashed over him in a icy wave and he sobbed out in pain, hands scrabbling uselessly at his seatbelt._

_Christ, he was going to die as Brian seethed over their fight._

_He was going to die crushed and alone in a tangle of metal._

_He was going to die by having the breath squeezed out of him and-_

“Roger!” A sharp voice pulled him a bit but he slipped back into the crushing paid, wheezing and gasping for breath. The pressure around him went tighter and tighter as he struggled to free himself.

 

_He was dying._

_He was dying._

_He was dying._

_He was-_

“Roger!” The shout jerked him out of the spiral and he opened his eyes, gasping and trying to see beyond the veil of tears. “Hey, hey Roger. Breathe with me, you’re safe.”

 

He couldn’t speak. The words that left his lips were a jumble of gasps and sobs. He clutched Brian’s shirt, wanting to ground himself and bring himself further out of his dream. One moment he was trapped in the car and the next he was lying in the bed.

 

“Shh, shh, you’re here. You’re safe,” the calm whisper was at odds with the angry drunken slurs from his memory. “Rog, I’m here. You’re safe.”

 

He kept shuddering, mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. Roger just buried his face in Brian’s chest and sobbed. His panic mixed with muscle spasms and aches just amplified his panic.

 

“Do you want a pill, would that help?” Brian sounded panicked, clearly desperate to help.

 

Roger nodded frantically. He accepted the chalky pill, struggling to get it down while spilling water all over his front.

 

His breathing slowed and his sobs just became little hitched breaths. He slipped back into that fuzzy, warm place and closed his eyes. In no time at all he was falling back asleep, not fighting against the pull at all.

 

One little pill wouldn’t hurt.

 

Not if it chased that horror away.


	10. Break

Brian hadn’t had anything to drink since the night of the accident.

 

Sometimes his mind would slip a bit and he would have a sudden surge of phantom nausea. He would feel dizzy for a moment, his stomach pulling painfully. A full shudder would run through him and his throat would spasm like he was fighting back a gag.

 

It was like his body was constantly trying to remind him what he felt like when he found out about Roger’s accident.

 

The anger had been simmering under his skin as he continued accepting the shots he was handed. Women flashed him sweet smiles and tugged their tops down and that only fueled his anger. Had Roger looked at the women like that? Had those women also hung off Roger’s arms? Had he let them?

 

It made him furious.

 

He knew that both Freddie and John were shooting him concerned looks. They had seen Roger storm off and it wasn’t like him to dive so deep into his drinking. It wasn’t like him to stay behind when his boyfriend left.

 

Well, if Roger got to pretend to be a womanizer, he could pretend to be happy here.

 

And so, he was well into his cups when Miami came up to him, face pale and hands shaking. It took him a few tries before Brian was finally able to grasp what he was saying.

 

Roger was in a car accident. He was currently in the hospital in surgery. He was really, really hurt.

 

The ride to the hospital passed in a bit of a blur but he could clearly remember John and Freddie asking the questions he wasn’t in the right mind to ask. He remembered missing when the doctor came to tell them Roger’s surgery was over because he was throwing up the massive amount of alcohol he had consumed.

 

John had to tell him what kinds of injuries he had, eyes dark and narrowed in clear disapproval. “He’s got a fractured skull and brain damage. That’s not combined with the shattered ribs, broken leg, and broken collarbone.”

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Brian had whispered.

 

“If I tell you will you be able to remember or are you too shit faced?” He felt his face burn with shame.

 

“John…”

 

“He’s in a coma. The doctor says that if he does wake up, if he wakes up, that he won’t be the same,” John’s jaw was tight with anger. “So, no he won’t be okay. Go sleep your hangover off.”

 

And Brian cried himself to sleep curled up in a plastic chair in the waiting room.

 

The guilt still managed to creep up on him in the most inconvenient of times. He had to find excuses during Roger’s therapy to go hyperventilate in the bathroom. He had to shoo Roger out of the kitchen to sob into his hands. He had to sneak out of the bed in the middle of the night to gag over the toilet.

 

He tried so hard to push down the panic and anxiety so it shouldn’t have surprised him that it wouldn’t work forever.

 

They had lay down to sleep, Roger shivering and sweating a bit before his breathing slowed and evened out. For a long few minutes Brian just stared at the ceiling before his body seemed to want to relieve that horrible night. His stomach began to roll and his throat went tight.

 

Instantly, he tried his best to slide out of bed and make his way to the bathroom before he lost the dinner he had eaten just a few hours earlier. The burning acid in his throat reminded him of how he had violently shook over the toilet, trying to strain his ears for any news on Roger.

 

His knees hit the tile and another wave of vomit rose up and gripped the edges of the toilet like his life depended on it. Tears burned his eyes and he felt his breathing get a bit strangled.

 

A gentle, shaking hand pressed against his back and he looked up to see Roger frowning down at him. The younger man had somehow managed to walk all the way from their bedroom to the bathroom and he was leaning heavily on the counter, legs trembling.

 

“Breathe,” Roger said softly but the blood roared in his ears, breath still hitching. “B-brian, just b-breathe.”

 

He tried, he really tried but it just got worse. Deep, tearing sobs ripped at his chest and he curled up slightly. Roger sat clumsily on the floor and scooted a bit closer, rubbing his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why he was so upset, just let him sob into his chest.

 

“I’m sorry Roger, I’m so fucking sorry,” he choked out, clutching at the soft sleep shirt Roger was wearing. “It’s my fault, it should have been me.”

 

“No,” Roger said softly.

 

“Yes! It’s all my fault and I should have been the one in the car,” Roger gently brushed away the tears from Brian’s cheeks. “I hate what I did.”

 

“Y-you didn’t force me into that c-car,” Roger mumbled into his hair. “You didn’t make the o-o-other car swerve. It’s not you. It j-j-just happened.”

 

Brian could feel himself trembling, heart shattering in his chest. He wanted to argue, he wanted to punish himself for that night, he wanted to forget it ever happened. It was all too much and not enough at the same time and he hated it.

 

“I’m g-getting better,” he could feel Roger smile against his temple. “I am, I just w-want you to get better too.”

 

“I am not the one who’s body broke into a million pieces,” Brian grumbled. “I’m fine.”

 

“No you’re not,” Roger pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’re h-hurt too and you’re ig-g-gnoring that hurt. It’ll fester Brian. It’ll tear you apart.”

 

He pressed his hands into his eyes and breathed deeply. Maybe he should speak to someone. He had gone to therapy in his youth but once they had become big he had stopped attending his appointments. Maybe he did need the help he tried so hard to get Roger to accept.

 

“Please Brian, I hate that y-y-you hurt,” he heard the tightness in Roger’s voice and nodded. “It hurts me.”

 

“Okay. I’ll make an appointment…I wont hurt you ever again,” he felt Roger’s hands tighten on his shoulder. “I promise.”


	11. Drum

 The long, drawn out sign on the other end of the phone made Roger grin. “Please Jim?”

 

“Are you sure you even want to go Roger? They’re not even recording…it’s just fine tuning stuff and blah, blah, blah…boring stuff really,” the Irishman’s voice was pleading but Roger was too determined to give in now.

 

“And as a member of the band, shouldn’t I be there for fine tuning?”

 

Jim let out another long sigh. “How about we just grab lunch hmm? You and I?”

 

“So you can babysit m-mme instead of letting me d-d-do my job?” Roger scoffed. “No. Please drive me?”

 

“You know, you’ve become a right pain ever since your speaking got better,” Jim sounded like he was smiling which only made Roger grin wider. “Fine…if Freddie throws a fit, I’m blaming you though.”

 

“I wouldn’t w-w-want to start a lover’s quarrel,” Roger bounced a bit on his toes, ignoring the ache in his legs. “See you in fifteen?”

 

“Ugh, I suppose.”

 

It had been a year since he had woken up from his coma and so many things had changed. His speaking had improved massively with help from his speech therapist and he could walk quite well (although he kept a walker on hand just in case). He had even cut out the pain medication even though it had seemed nearly impossible.

 

He felt like a new man, almost back to how he had been. There were days when Roger was able to feel normal and those days were becoming more and more frequent. The frustrating thing was that the people around him didn’t seem to agree.

 

Queen had even started rehearsing again and Brian had told him that “they would call him when they thought they needed him”. He didn’t seem to understand how deeply insulting that was. It meant that Roger had to find a creative way to get to the studio.

 

And that’s where Jim came in.

 

Maybe he should have felt more guilty about manipulating his friend’s husband into being his ride, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. It was their fault; he was just trying to do his damn job.

 

Roger went out of his way to dress as nicely as he could, slim jeans paired with a shirt he knew looked good on him. His hair was styled perfectly, and he was almost giddy by the time there was a knock on the door.

 

When he swung open the door, he couldn’t help but smile at the man on the other side. Jim just radiated warmth and he had never once looked at Roger like he wasn’t the same as he always had been. In fact, he had even snuck in junk food that Brian had basically outlawed.

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Jim raised his eyebrows.

 

“I’m g-g-going to rehearsal,” Roger lifted his chin, fixing the older man with a steady stare. After a moment Jim rolled his eyes and held the door open for him, grabbing the walker as he followed. He climbed into the passenger side of Jim’s car, settling back and rubbing the heel of his hand along his thigh.

 

Jim loaded up the walker and got into the driver’s side, turning on the car. Roger waited for a moment and then realized that the older man wasn’t putting his car in reverse. Confused, Roger glanced at him to see the deep frown set in his face.

 

“What’s w-r-r-rong?”

 

“I understand that you’re frustrated about the other guys not including you but-“ Roger held a hand up, interrupting a clearly planned out speech.

 

“No. I’m allowed t-t-to be mad,” he snapped and Jim’s frown deepened.

 

“Of course you do. I can’t even imagine what you must be going through,” Jim tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “And I know you’re tired of hearing it but…you’re not alone in your suffering.”

 

“Other people w-w-w-woke up from a coma?” Roger couldn’t help the biting sarcasm in his voice. “I had no idea.”

 

A sad, humorless smile lingered on Jim’s face and made Roger look away, an ugly feeling growing in his gut. “Did you know you woke up a few times before….I suppose the final time you woke up? Every time Brian’s face would light up and he would smile for the first time in weeks. But then you wouldn’t be there. Your eyes would be all blank and you would barely respond. He would try and try and try to talk to you but…it was like every time you woke up, he died just a bit.”

 

Roger bit his lip and slunk down in his seat. He wanted to shout at Jim and tell him not to say anything else but the words stuck in his throat.

 

“And I get it. If Freddie was in your place I honestly don’t know if I would have been as strong as Brian was. I don’t think I could have spent so long hoping and having those hopes dashed,” a strange look passed over Jim’s face. “Hell, it was hard enough holding Freddie as he cried himself to sleep almost every night. I can’t imagine what it was like for him.”

 

“Jim…”

 

“All I’m saying is that before you woke up we all mourned. They are just terrified that they will lose you and have to go through that all over again,” Jim turned to face him, eyes so full of pain that Roger couldn’t look at him for long. “I just want you to understand that.”

 

Roger nodded slightly, stomach churning. After a beat Jim turned on the car and pulled out of the driveway. Had they really mourned him? Had Brian really lost hope several times? Had he honestly been torn down so many times?

 

By the time they reached the rehearsal space he was more nervous than ever. Jim reached over and squeezed his hand slightly, smiling. They made their way to the rehearsal room and Roger held his head up high, noticing how Brian’s jaw dropped in shock.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He gasped out.

 

“This is a b-b-band rehearsal. I’m in the band,” he said simply and then paused. “I’m fine Bri, I want to be here.”

 

Blessedly Brian didn’t argue. He didn’t move an inch as Jim gave a furious Freddie a shrug and helped Roger to the drum kit. He passed the drummer his sticks before pulling something out of the bag he had around his chest.

 

“So…I know you don’t have the dexterity to hold the sticks…it’s a bit crude but if I tape the sticks to your hands do you think you’ll be able to play a bit better?” He asked softly and Roger perked up, nodding quickly.

 

It was a bit awkward and Freddie hovered the whole time, huffing, but by the end Jim had more or less taped Roger’s fingers down to hold the drumstick.

 

“It’s short term dear,” the assured Freddie. “At least until he can do it on his own.”

 

Freddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smile when Jim pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Fine, fuck it. Let’s play then.”

 

They started up Killer Queen, Roger concentrating hard on keeping the beat. It was a bit awkward, but he was able to keep his fingers curled and not drop his sticks. After a verse he was able to really get into the rhythm of it and glanced up.

 

Brian was grinning at him, eyes bright and shiny with tears. He looked _proud_ and relieved. It felt just like it had before and this time it was because of him, not because of anyone else. He did this.

 

For weeks Brian had been terrified, watching him brush at wakefulness only to slip back under. This time Roger was here for good. He was alive and he was living. He had to show Brian that he didn’t have to be scared anymore.

 

He would do anything to keep Brian from feeling that fear again.

 

“Ready to play another one?” Brian asked, a bit breathless after the end of the song. The stress and fear seemed to melt off of him, leaving him looking so happy that Roger felt a rush of joy himself.

 

“Always,” he replied.


	12. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, here it is! The last chapter! I so hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

The day started off with a headache.

 

From the moment he opened his eyes he had a persistent throbbing at the base of his skull. Lights seemed too bright and sounds seemed too loud, dampened only by pulling his comforter over his head and burrowing deep under it.

 

Brian could also tell he felt off judging by the tea and buttered toast waiting on the bedside table when he finally peeked out.

 

“Why good morning sleeping beauty,” a warm voice came from the doorway and he squinted up at Brian. “We have sound check in an hour. Eat and start getting ready.”

 

Roger groaned and flopped onto his back, rubbing at his face with slightly curled in fingers. “I don’t know Bri. I h-h-h-have a headache and feel-l-l-l like shit…let’s just get the b-b-b-backup guy to do it tonight. I’ll play the next one.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Brian crawled into bed beside him, curling his long limbs around Roger. He hooked his chin over Roger’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.

 

“That’s stupid.”

 

Roger rolled his eyes and squirmed a bit in his hold.

 

“It’s stupid Roger. You’ve worked really fucking hard and come so far. A year and a half ago you couldn’t walk, you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t play.”

 

“I st-t-t-till can’t,” Roger mumbled into his hands.

 

Brian was quiet for a moment and kissed his neck again. “You’re not where you were and there’s a chance you might never be there again. I’m just being honest…but Roger, you know how fucking far you’ve come. You can walk across the entire flat without your walker, you stutter but it’s not stopping you, and you can play. Things are different but it’s not worse…it’s just where you are right now.”

 

Roger hummed, sinking back into the gentle hold of his boyfriend. “What if I-I-I-I-“

 

“Mess up? You will,” Brian shrugged a bit. “But no one will notice. It’s your first show back and it’s not going to be perfect. Hell, the rest of us are out of practice as well so it can’t be perfect. I mean…do you even want to play tonight?”

 

“O-o-of course I do,” Roger awkwardly turned around, so they were face to face. “It’s a-a-a-all I want. I just don’t….I-I-I-I don’t want to let you down.”

 

Brian’s eyes went soft and he leaned forward to kiss Roger’s nose. “Don’t do it for me. Don’t do it for Fred or John or even the fans. Do it for you.”

 

Roger sighed and pressed his forehead into Brian’s chest. “I’m sc-c-c-cared.”

 

Brian didn’t respond to that, just tightened his arms around the younger man and held him tightly. They lay together in silence, just breathing until that ball of panic and fear started to loosen. He could honestly have stayed in that moment with those strong arms around him forever.

 

“Fred’ll kill us if we’re late,” Brian mumbled but he didn’t seem too bothered to get up either.

 

“F-f-f-fuck him,” Roger grinned, getting a mock glare in response.

 

“I’ll let you tell him that,” Brian sat up, offering a hand to his boyfriend. “And then you can lose your hearing from the deafening shriek that is sure to follow.”

 

As Brian helped him stand and dress Roger thought back to how it had felt just a few months ago. He used to hate getting out of bed. He used to hate the thought that his boyfriend had to help him do the simplest tasks. Now, it was fine. It was their new normal and that was okay. Of course, he wanted to go back to how things were but for now, they were doing okay.

 

The drive to the performance hall was quiet, Brian hummed along to the music as he lightly traced his thumb along the back of his hand. Roger just pressed himself into his seat and adjusted his dark glasses, trying to focus on the warm hand in his.

 

“Well finally!” Freddie sighed dramatically when he saw them, Brian with an arm on Roger’s shoulder as he walked. The taller man held the closed walker in his other hand, ready to go if Roger needed it. “Here I thought you two had gotten too caught up in shagging each other to bother coming to sound check.”

 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Roger said cheekily and John laughed, shaking his head.

 

Brian got Roger settled on his stool and strapped on the gloves. Freddie had taken Jim’s idea of taping Roger’s fingers down and modified some gloves so he could keep his sticks in his hands without tape. It was certainly much more comfortable and had a bit more movement.

 

The sound check went as normal, Freddie making tweaks and them getting a few songs started. It was relaxed and fun, the boys shooting jokes back and forth at each other. It felt like _home._

 

But the closer they came to preforming, the quieter Roger got.

 

He just stared out at the empty seats and the anxiety bubbled unpleasantly in his gut. In just a few short hours those seats were going to be filled with people depending on him to put on a good show. Thousands of eyes would be on him, knowing what happened and waiting for him to mess up.

 

Oh God, and the media. Roger could just see the articles that would appear in the papers tomorrow.

 

**_Queen drummer Roger Taylor returns to the stage after accident, disappoints fans._ **

****

**_Queen drummer Roger Taylor tried his best and isn’t that cute._ **

****

**_Queen drummer Roger Taylor lets down thousands._ **

****

By the time the sound check was over he was a nervous wreck. Brian was by his side in an instant and while he looked a bit confused, he didn’t say a word when Roger reached for the walker. They made their way to the dressing room and Roger sat down heavily on the couch.

 

“We sold out you know,” Freddie fluffed at his hair in the mirror, squinting his eyes a bit. “A sold out show after hiatus! People are already lining up outside, ready to see us.”

 

Then John, bless his observant soul, cleared his throat and interrupted Freddie before Roger could completely meltdown. “What are we going to eat before we go on? I vote pizza.”

 

The order went out and they spent the next few hours relaxing, eating, and going through hair and makeup. Over a year of not really giving a damn of how he looked made it feel strange to be a bit pampered. Staring at himself in the mirror was bizarre. His hair had grown out and he hadn’t taken care of it as much as he used to. The dark circles under his eyes stood out against his far too pale skin and he felt almost uncomfortable as the makeup artist buzzed around him.

 

“You look good,” Brian grinned at him as he pulled on his outfit; a simple pair of black track pants and flowy white shirt.

 

“You have to say that,” Roger shot back but Brian took his chin and tipped his face up for a kiss.

 

“No, I don’t,” Brian’s eyes sparkled. “You ready?”  

 

Roger groaned and rocked back on his heels, grinning as he lost his balance and making Brian scramble to catch him. “I guess.”

 

They walked hand in hand towards the entrance to the stage, Roger wishing a bit that he had his walker. He needed that little bit of security to keep him from feeling like he would collapse at any moment.

 

The crowd roared on the other side of the curtain and Roger’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. A soft kiss was pressed to his cheek and Brian leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “It’s for you dear. This is just for you, don’t worry about anyone else. You’ve already done the impossible, you can do this.”

 

Roger sucked in a breath until he felt his ribs stretch and lungs ache. He then nodded and they stepped onto the dark stage. A stage hand quickly helped him to the drum riser and strapped on the gloves. The crowd just cheered louder when he made a few experimental hits.

 

“Ready Roger?” Freddie climbed onto the riser, raising his eyebrows and holding his microphone away from them.

 

“That’s my bloody line,” Roger tapped on the cymbal and nodded with a grin.

 

“Dramatic bitch,” Freddie rolled his eyes, but his smile was luminous as Roger tapped out the first few beats.

 

He had forgotten the rush of preforming live. He had forgotten the electricity that fizzled under his skin at the roar of the crowd and how he just fed off of the energy. The rest of the band seemed equally as enthusiastic, throwing their everything into the music.

 

“Wow, what a welcome back,” Freddie laughed breathlessly as they finished the song. “We just couldn’t stay away from your beautiful faces.”

 

The crowd screamed and Roger grinned, tugging his gloves back up on his hands a bit.

 

“Of course, you know us. You lot probably have posters of us on your walls and fantasize about us, perverts,” as usual Freddie flirted and strutted around the stage. “But for those people who somehow wandered into this concert, I’m your muse Freddie Mercury.”

 

He did an exaggerated bow.

 

“And we have the spectacular Brian May on guitar, the steady and unfaltering John Deacon on bass, and of course our pretty boy drummer Roger Taylor,” he turned to wink at Roger as the audience screamed. “Now, you know we had to take a bit of a break because of the accident Roger was involved in. Because of your support and love he has practically come back from certain death. Maybe the accident knocked his head around enough that it fixed whatever was wrong with it before.”

 

He turned to laugh as Roger attempted to give him the bird, scowling at his secured fingers. Still, he felt a warmth in his chest.

 

“Regardless, we couldn’t play without him. He’s part of this crazy family if he likes it or not,” Freddie rolled his shoulders back a bit. “So how about we play you another song?”

 

And in that moment, nothing mattered. He didn’t have to think about his upcoming therapy appointments. He didn’t have to think about the pain medication he still wasn’t supposed to take, despite the pain. He didn’t have to think about all the things he couldn’t do still. He just was able to focus on what he was doing now.

 

Now, he was playing a kickass concert.

 

By the time they were done preforming, Roger couldn’t stop grinning. He felt like he was almost on a high. The strain he had put on his muscles caused spasms to run through his arms and legs, but he wasn’t even thinking about the pain.

 

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Brian was breathing hard, sweat gathering at his hairline. He had jumped on the risers as soon as the lights went out. “You okay? You look like you’re going to have a seizure or something.”

 

“N-n-n-n-“ The word couldn’t come out no matter how hard he tried and Brian looked suddenly horrified. He quickly waved over the medics who had been on standby for the concert. He continued looking nervous even as Roger shakily waved them off.

 

“It’s okay love, you did so good. You’ll-“

 

Roger pressed a shaking hand to his mouth and shook his head, still grinning widely. “St-t-t-top. I’m f-f-f-f-f-…t-t-t-t-tirrrred.”

 

Instantly the taller man relaxed. “Oh…you sure?”

 

Roger nodded but still allowed the paramedics to help him into the waiting wheelchair. When he had been healthy concerts had been exhausting. Now, his body clearly wasn’t able to keep up with the pressure but mentally, he had never felt stronger.

 

He wasn’t the weak invalid that he had been so scared of becoming. He was a bloody rockstar and he would continue showing people what he was capable of.

 

But for now, he was going to go home and enjoy the hot bath Brian had promised him.


End file.
